I'll Take the Lollipop, Though
by Athena's Helm
Summary: What's more important than family? Nothing. Since the apparent death of Annabeth, Percy's only comfort has been his genius daughter, Clara. Follow the Jacksons as they share laughs, tears, dreams, and memories. Some chapters are humor, some are really sad
1. Chapter 1

**Intro**

No one could have guessed it, but Percy turned out to be an excellent father. He was thirty-five and seven days when Clara came into his life, and was thirty-five and seven days when this little bundle of joy became the light of his life.

She looked like him, everyone would always say. She looked a lot like him. But she definitely had her mother's mind. By age three she could write beautiful cursive and do long division in her head, By four, she was graphing logarithms in record-setting time. A few months later, multi-variable calculus was out of the way, and with that came the end of what her father could teach her. At that point, he realized she should be sent to school.

It was a hard decision for him; Doctor Jackson's job at the Aquarium had flexible hours, so he relished in being able to spend countless hours at home or at the park with Clara. It was odd, sometimes, to be having an intelligent conversation over a game of chess with a four year old (who always beat him at said game). But he loved her. He loved her with all his heart. Sometimes he felt like she was the only thing keeping him sane, his little daughter. Being a single parent was made easier by having a hyper-intelligent child, but he certainly did not take advantage of it in order to be with her less. In fact, he went out of his way to be with her every second he could.

But it had to be done. Eventually, she was the one who convinced him that school would be for the best. She was in Kindergarten by the fall.

* * *

**Chapter One: I'll Grab the Fishing Gear**

"Alright children," the young teacher cooed. "Lots of you went to preschool, I know. So we're just going to fill out this little sheet so we can see where everyone is at. Take one and pass it down, and remember to use the name of the person you're passing to; we need to learn everyone's names."

Clara rolled her eyes. She knew everyone's names already, of course. And she just _hated_ being pandered too. And to think, she could have been spending this afternoon at the park with her dad, fishing or playing in the-

"Clara, dear, pass those papers," the teacher's annoying voice cut off her thoughts.

"Yes, Mrs. Myrkle," Clara sighed. "Here you go, Anna," she said, taking a paper for herself and passing the stack to the left.

"Thank you, Clara," Anna droned. God, what a tool. "Here you go, uhh.."

"I'm Sarah," the next girl in line pouted indignantly.

Clara tuned them out and looked down at her paper.

_Solve: 4+1=?_

Wow, really? She picked up the…colored pencil Mrs. Myrkle had placed at every desk. She shook her head disgustedly and pulled a black ballpoint pen out of her pocket.

The math section took her all of ten seconds; basically the time it took her to glance at each of the ten problems and quickly write the answer. Next came the English section.

_English: What country do you live in, and what state?_

Clara rolled her eyes and looked around the room. Children were scribbling wildly, drawing flowers and trucks on their papers, or simply drooling on them. A few were looking at their colored pencils as if they were some strange devices from mars.

She glanced back down at her paper and realized that this was the last question. She decided to have some fun with it.

_I live, and was born in, the United States of America. In and before 1776, this land was a territory of the United Kingdom. But that year, a committee of merchants, politicians, bankers, plantation owners, and other notables issued to the King of England a proclamation. They were angered at prohibitive tariffs and wished independence. This 'Continental Congress' decided to declare independence on July 2__nd__ of that year, and ratified the wording of the declaration, written by Thomas Jefferson, on July 4__th__._

_Long story short, a war was fought. Despite valiant leadership by General George Washington, we would have lost in a most horrible fashion if it were not for the timely intervention of the French. Their armies and fleets evened the playing field, and Dutch/Spanish attacks on British possessions in Europe kept that great Empire distracted long enough for us little worms to weasel our way out of the British colonial bubble. Lucky us, huh?_

_Finally, with the 1783 Treaty of Paris, the Brits recognized our independence. Though taxes and general welfare did not improve as a result of Independence, the lives of the already rich people who orchestrated it did improve. Oops._

_Anyways, our country grew, fought a few more wars, almost got recaptured (thank god Napoleon kept the Brits busy), fought a few more wars, grew some more, and really stepped onto the world stage for the first time with the onset of WWI. Then we retreated back into our little happy bubble for awhile before a big economic fart and another big war forced us to come out for good._

_As for states, I live in Virginia, the Old Dominion State…_

Eventually, the finely written cursive essay took up most of the front and back of the paper, except a little box that said 'doodles.' Clara took the opportunity to practice a little calculus there.

"Hand in your papers, Children," crooned the teacher.

_a few hours later_

"God, you look bored Dad," Clara announced the moment she walked in the door.

"Yeah, well," he said, smiling at his daughter and bending down to plant a fond kiss atop her head. "Not much to do without you around."

"You should get out some," she suggested. "Maybe go on some dates. Most men your age are married, you know."

"And _you_ should lay off those romance novels," Percy admonished.

She laughed, which made him smile. "Seriously, though."

"Naw. You're all the female I need around here."

She put her hands on her hips and made a disgusted face. "Ew. I'm not here to satisfy your sexual needs."

Percy did a facepalm. Clara laughed.

"It was a joke, Dad. I know that's not what you meant."

"I almost forgot to laugh," Percy said dryly.

Clara studied her father for a moment. "You had a woman once, didn't you?"

Percy nodded sadly.

"And you're still in love with her on the inside, I suppose," Clara continued.

"Yeah. She was… amazing. And she was my best friend, too. Ever since I was twelve…"

"Is she dead?"

"I think so."

"Is she my mo-"

"How was your day at school?" Percy asked, obviously not happy discussing this long-lost love of his. "Did you go easy on the genius-ness like I told you too? No need to freak out your teacher on the first day."

Clara grinned sheepishly and handed her father a note from the principle. "Yeah, about that. Principle says that she's never seen anything quite like me, and that I should probably get out of the school and get some private tutor. Oh, and something about a very cynical view of my nation's history."

He snatched the note and read it hurriedly. "Wonderful," he said, not a milligram of sarcasm in his voice. "Wonderful! Now, let's go to Burke Lake Park, shall we? I'll get the bikes and start up the car!"

Clara nodded happily. "I'll grab the fishing gear!"

* * *

**Chapter Two: Details at Eleven**

Clara's age: Five years, eight months

The doctor's visit probably wasn't a great idea, but Percy was afraid that Child Protective Services would come to take his kid away if he didn't bring her in for a checkup at least every once in awhile. He warned her not to be all 'genius' during the appointment.

The waiting room was torturous. She leaned on her father's shoulder, completely bored, as the other kids amused themselves with the strange block games and picture books. It disgusted her, quite frankly. Such tools.

The nurse at the counter noticed, and offered Clara a lollipop.

"No thanks, but I noticed you've got the latest issue of Scientific American back there. I haven't had a look at it yet; do you mind if I borrow it for a few minutes," Clara responded quite politely.

The nurse's eyes widened and she said 'okay' quite shakily, handing the magazine for the little girl. Clara was deeply engrossed in an article about Ion Drive propulsion within seconds.

Percy glanced at his daughter, then up at the shocked nurse, and said, "I'll take the lollipop, though."

That got them bumped up on the waiting list.

* * *

"So, you haven't been for a checkup before?" the doctor admonished. "It's particularly important to show up regularly, especially with children that age."

"Oh, I trust her to spot and report any problems she has in detail," Percy said, communicating his amusement to Clara with a shared smile.

The doctor gave Percy the 'I've got CPS on my speed dial' look. "Come now. Even older children don't do that on their own."

"Well _she_ does."

The doctor just rolled his eyes and gave up. Another silly patient. And he had a full schedule, too, probably with a lot more silly patients on it. "Now, I assume she's not on any medications-"

"Okay!" interrupted Clara, finally snapping. Percy rolled his eyes. "First of all, do you have _any_ idea how completely _rude_ it is to incessantly talk about someone in the third person while they're sitting right next to you!"

The doctor looked at the five year old in shock.

"For your information, I'm perfectly fine! A picture of health! I eat my veggies, run, and exercise my brain with some chess and calculus-"

The poor doctor's jaw dropped a few more inches. Clara was really enjoying this now.

"I'm right as rain! Super-duper! Out of this world! Positively _transcendent,_ I daresay_!_"

"Now, what did I say about modesty, Clara," mocked Percy.

"-Primo! Out and out healthy! Up to par! Absolutely hale! Compos mentis, if you catch my drift."

"Oh…okay," the doc stammered nervously, backing slowly out of the room. "Uh, yes. Picture of health-"

"Already said that one," Clara pointed out. Percy nodded in agreement.

"Yes, well, I…that concludes this appointment. Uh, I hope to never, well, that is, we hope to see you, uh, soon?" the doctor stuttered unsurely

"Now, that's not very nice. Cause if you see me soon that means I'm sick" Clara said, putting on her fake pensive face. "Wishing illness on your patients isn't a very polite way to do business."

"Uh, right. I'll keep that in mind. Toodles!" the doctor said, leaving the room.

Percy and Clara looked at each other for a few seconds, and then abruptly burst out in uncontrollable laughter.

"Ho… heh, that was the best," Percy panted between laughs.

"Tell me about it," Clara choked out. "Did you see the look on his face!"

"Oh, that was great. Let's go to another doctor's office," Percy chuckled and held the door open for his precious daughter. "Come on, let's skedaddle before they send the child psychologist in."

"We can do this every weekend! Go freak out doctors!" Clara exclaimed, bounding out the door, her jet black ponytail bouncing happily along behind her.

"I can see it now," Percy said, making a box with his hands at arm's length, in imitation of a TV screen. "Clara Jackson: Terror of Northern Virginia Pediatric Clinics. Wanted for inducing deadly shock in a number or prominent doctors."

"Details at eleven!" Clara finished happily.

**I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I'm definately _way _too happy. I suppose it's unavoidable; Cross Country is a blast, I've finally got the plot all sorted out for the book I've been working on, the weather has been great, and some other work of mine has been getting great reception. Anyhow, I've got a few more of these little stories planned for you all. I've got to skedaddle now. Toodles, everyone, and happy reading!**

**Oh, and please review ;)  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Three: The Doorbell Ringer**

_Clara's seventh birthday_

"So what's this big surprise you say you've got planned for me?" Clara asked for the hundredth time.

"Sh-uh, it's on its way," Percy responded for the hundredth time.

"Ha! I got you!" exclaimed Clara, bounding across the room and jumping into her father's lap. "You were about to say 'she,' weren't you! So it's a person, eh?"

"What, are we Canadian now, eh?"

"Don't change the subject!" snapped Clara.

"Okay, fine," Percy conceded. "The surprise is a person. An old friend of mine. I just don't know why she's taking so-"

'_Ding-dong'_ the doorbell sounded loudly.

"Oh, thank the gods," Percy said, getting up from the sofa. He didn't notice Clara grinning behind him.

He pushed open the front door and looked left and right. "Uh, hello?" He took a step onto the porch. "Hello?"

The doorbell rang again. _'Ding-dong.'_

Percy whipped around to look at it, hoping to catch whoever was ringing it. But all he saw was a strange little device attached to the doorbell. He ripped it off and stormed back into the house. Sure enough, Clara was sitting on the sofa with a strange looking remote control, giggling uncontrollably.

"Did you like it?" she asked. "I built it myself."

"Out of what?" Percy demanded, sitting down next to her.

"The toaster."

"WHAT!" Percy jumped off and stormed off into the kitchen, leaving a giggling little girl behind him. He returned a few seconds later, having found the toaster to be intact. "You little-" he started as he sat down on the couch.

"I was just kidding. I built it out of parts from your stereo system's speakers," Clara interrupted.

"For gods sa-" Percy started to get up. "Na uh. I'm not falling that little trick again."

"No, seriously dad," Clara said, putting on the innocent face that he knew all too well.

"You're lying."

Clara sighed and bit her lip. "Fine. I used that wireless mouse in the office."

"See," said Percy, standing up. "Now that's reasonable."

He returned from the office a few seconds later, holding a perfectly functional wireless mouse.

"Clara!" he said angrily, waving the mouse in his little daughter's face. "I'm tired of this. What did you cannibalize to make that little… uh…thingamajig…"

"Automatic Doorbell/Chime Activation System," Clara said proudly. "ADCAS, for short. I'm going to get a patent for it."

"Yeah, well, what did you tear up?"

Clara sighed. "Your weather radio. I know you don't use it too much, so I decided to use it."

Thunder crackled outside, and rain began to pour down from the grey, gray skies. And, as Percy climbed the stairs to his bedroom to check on the state of the supposedly defunct NOAA weather radio, he heard its mechanical voice begin to drone

_Beep…beep…beep_

"..A SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WARNING IS IN EFFECT FOR MOST COUNTIES IN THE DC METRO AREA UNTIL 10:00 TONIGHT. AT 5:30 PM, NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE DOPPLER RADAR IN STERLING VIRGINIA INDICATED A LINE OF SEVERE THUNDERSTORMS STRETCHING FROM GREENE TO HAMPSHIRE. THESE STORMS ARE MOVING NORTH-NORTHEAST AT THIRTY KNOTS AND ARE CAPABLE OF PRODUCING WIND GUSTS IN EXCESS OF FIFTY FIVE KNOTS AND DIME TO GOLF BALL SIZED HAIL. THESE DAMAGING WINDS AND HAIL WILL BE ACCOMPANIED BY HEAVY RAIN AND DEADLY LIGHTNING. FOR YOUR PROTECTION, SEEK SHELTER IN A BUILDING OR VEHICLE UNTIL THE STORM HAS PASSED…"

Percy, feeling too much like a fool to be very mad, trudged down the stairs and back to the living room. "Well, he sighed," at least this means that your surprise is almost here.

Clara raised an eyebrow. "What? Because there's a bad storm outside?"

The doorbell rang. Percy whipped his head around as quickly as he could, and noted with satisfaction that the auto-ringer was far from Clara's reach. "Go get the door," Percy ordered. "You'll have to show me later what you, _for real,_ tore up."

"Why do I have to get the door?" Clara demanded, folding her arms. "It's my birthday!"

Percy leaned in and nuzzled her. "Because you've been a bad little girl, tricking your daddy like that."

"Fine!" Clara pouted, hopping off the couch and bounding off towards the door.

Percy watched her go, yelling, "remember to check out the window before you unlock it!"

He chuckled to himself. Sometimes he felt like she drove him insane rather than kept him sane. But it was a good kind of insane.

"Dad!" Clara called.

"What?"

"I don't think it's the old friend you were talking about, dad. There's a teenage girl at the door."

"Yep," Percy said. "That's her."

"O…ohkay."

Clara opened the door and looked up to see the teenage girl smiling down at her. She was tall, with flowing black hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with electricity. "Hello, Clara," she said, squatting down to be level with the little girl. "I'm your Auntie Grace. We met once, but you were just a few weeks old. You probably don't remember."

Clara looked at the girl doubtfully. "You're my dad's sister? You don't look a day over sixteen."

"Cousin, actually, and she's going on forty-five," Percy responded, appearing behind Clara. "Hey Thals."

"Percy!" exclaimed Thalia happily, throwing herself into a big hug. Percy kissed her lightly on the cheek. "How've you been, you ol' fish face?"

"Ah, same old, same old. You?"

"Lots of…." Thalia glanced at Clara. "Shall we say, 'foresting.'"

Clara piped up. "So I'm confused now. If she's your cousin, how is she my aunt? That would make her my first cousin once removed."

"Well, seeing as you've got no aunts or uncles," Percy said, "and Thals here is the closest thing I've got to a sister, you can go ahead and call her Aunt. Not to mention 'first cousin once removed' is a mouthful. Come on, let's all go have dinner. Homemade perogies with amatriciana sauce tonight!"

"Yay!" Clara exclaimed happily, bounding off towards the kitchen.

"You can cook?" asked Thalia, surprised, as she and Percy walked in Clara's wake.

"Of course," said Percy, feeling mildly offended. "How do you think I survived college?"

"Grandma Sally says he survived off frozen waffles and canned garbanzo beans," Clara supplied.

"I told you not to listen to any of her preposterous stories!" Percy called back.

"Mmm-hmm," hummed Clara doubtfully. "Preposterous. Right."

"What a little angel," Thalia commented.

"Yeah. She loves messing with me."

"Takes after her auntie, then?" Thalia said, more of a statement then a question, as she slipped into the kitchen, leaving Percy in the hall shaking his head slowly and feeling like a fool.

* * *

"That was actually pretty good food," Thalia commented.

"Yeah! It's my favorite dinner," Clara said.

Percy smiled smugly. Thalia noticed. "Okay, so you can cook. That doesn't make you any less pathetic, fishface."

Clara bounded ahead of them into the living room. Percy and Clara plopped down on the couch, while Thalia made herself comfortable in the sofa-chair.

"What's this mouse doing here?" Thalia asked, reaching towards the coffee table

"Oh, its wireless," Percy said, dodging the question.

"Right. So you can use it to control the computer in your office all the way from in here," Thalia said sarcastically. "Really, why is it here next to the couch?"

Percy shot Clara a look. "It's a long story."

Clara appeased her father by changing the subject. "Dad got me a TI-96 calculator and Age of Empires Five for my birthday!"

Thalia raised an eyebrow. "Really? Playing strategy games already, are we."

"And working with partial differential equations and complex analysis," Percy supplied, rolling his eyes. "Hey, mind getting a CD out, Clara?"

"Sure!" Clara responded with an enthusiasm Percy found suspicious. "What do you want?"

"I dunno. Foo Fighters?"

"Sure," Clara said, bounding up the stairs.

Percy sighed sadly and leaned back in the sofa.

"You know, having a mother might actually be good for her," Thalia commented seriously. "You should really get out more. You know; the whole fall in love and get married thing."

"This coming from a huntress…"

"I'm serious Percy. You _need_ to move on. It's been fifteen years. Annabeth is dead and gone, and sitting on your hands isn't going to change anything."

"Don't _say_ that!" snapped Percy. He sighed sadly and leaned back, calming himself. "I can still hope. And I still do."

Percy was spared from having to continue down this particular line of thought by the return of Clara. She pranced over to the CD player and slipped the disc in.

_The rain is here, and you, my dear, are still my friend…_

Thalia made a face. "Ew. What's wrong with the sound quality?"

Percy shrugged and stood up to go check the balance. "Beats me."

"Oh, didn't I tell you," Clara said, grinning maliciously. "I used parts of the speaker to make the doorbell ringer."

**Ta da! And yes, I'm still in a good mood. I hope to make it contagious. Comments/reviews appreciated! Til next time, everyone.**


	3. Chapter 3 slightly reworked

**Chapter 4: Just Eat Your Pancakes!**

Clara's Age: 10

Two figures, one of them Percy, dashed through the dark forest. They weaved among the creeping moonlit shadows, trying to hold their weapons low as not to reflect the moonlight. The fleet footed duo crunched few leaves and made little noise, but still their pursuers came.

The beasts seemed to be crawling out of the woodwork of darkness, emerging from the shadows and attacking violently before giving chase. The few times one was illuminated by the moon was enough to show the two that these beasts were like nothing they had ever seen before, and enough to make them not want to see one ever again.

The duo picked up their speed, but it seemed like their pursuers were moving like apparitions. They would step out of the shadows to the left and right, and occasionally just ahead of them. And that, with the crunching of sword on beastly flesh, was the only thing that assured the two of the realism of their attackers.

"Percy!" squealed a familiar voice. He whipped around to see his companion being lifted off her feet by a pair of the beasts. A knife fell from her now ghost-white hand as the monster squeezed her wrists impossibly tight. They stood still, heads cocked like curious dogs, gauging Percy's reaction for a moment, then began to withdrawal, still holding his companion, into the trees.

"NO!" yelled Percy, readying his sword and charging toward the intimidating monsters that were dragging his companion away. A thousand emotions shot like thunderbolts through Percy's mind, overwhelming his brain with a typhoon of jumbled thoughts. But all fear had left him in that moment, all trepidation gone. It all sorted out into one, simple directive. To destroy. He felt like he could destroy the beasts with his anger alone, in a whirlwind of furious rage. He could not, _would_ not allow them to take her from him.

But he soon found his murderous path blocked by the rest of the beasts, their claws glistening and grotesque beaks dripping in the moonlight, ready to cover the retreat of the captors of Percy's companion. Had Percy been thinking straight, he might have made a hasty retreat. But now was not a time for thinking.

Percy raised his sword and dashed fearlessly into their midst. He was going to save her. That was the one thought paralyzing and controlling his synapses. _Nothing_ could take her from him; not even these disgusting bird-lion-men. Nothing. Not after all these years.

The beasts did not stand a chance against his raw fury. The clash of sword against claw and the sickening sound of riptide puncturing their slimy flesh was music to his ears. He lost count of how many monsters he hacked, quite literally, to dust in his rage. Fifty? Sixty?

He was surrounded now, but he could care less. Nothing could be allowed to stand in his way. Nothing!

But soon the circle of beasts surrounding him slowly began to step back, their black forms seemingly melting right back into shadows from whence they came. He lunged desperately in every direction, at every silhouette in sight, but his sword only came up against solid bark.

"Come out and fight me, you cowards!" Percy screamed. "It's me you want, not her."

But the now empty forest could only answer with the feint echoes of his own voice, and the rustling of leaves in the wind. Percy collapsed to the ground dejectedly, his sword, now useless to him, left forgotten in the brush. It would come back. But she wouldn't. She couldn't.

As the startled insects resumed their nightly ensemble, he wept into his hands.

"Dad!" someone called. "Dad!"

Percy looked around. He recognized that voice. But it didn't fit with the scene. With the memory.

Percy's eyes shot open. Clara's pretty little round face hovered above him, looking concerned. She was shaking him. "Dad? Wake up dad! You're dreaming!"

He blinked. "What time is it?"

Clara glanced at her little watch. "Ten thirty."

Percy jerked up. "What? I should be at work!"

"I turned your alarm off last night, dad," Clara said. "And I phoned Martha and told her you wouldn't be coming in today."

"Why?" Percy asked, falling back dejectedly onto his pillow. The painful nightmare had depressed him too much for him to get mad at much of anything.

"Because I looked at the calendar last night. We missed father's day! I didn't do anything for you!" Clara exclaimed. "In fact, I was just coming upstairs to wake you up when I heard you yelling in your sleep. I've made you blueberry pancakes and heated up some maple syrup. Change into these," Clara said, shoving jeans and a t-shirt at him, "and come downstairs for breakfast."

Percy stared after his disappearing daughter in astonishment. Father's day… it hadn't even occurred to him. But depressed or not, how could he refuse blueberry pancakes? So he quickly changed out of his pajamas and into the clothes she had thrown at him- his favorite, it turned out- and trudged downstairs.

When he got down there, Clara was already seated at the table, smiling proudly. There were two little plates piled high with blueberry pancakes at the table, and a steaming pitcher of maple syrup in the middle.

Out of the blue, a memory resurfaced and struck Percy. An old memory. It paralyzed him on the spot, sending another wave of icy sorrow through him.

Clara peered concernedly at him over her pile of blueberry pancakes. He knew that look all too well. The, 'what's daddy always seem so sad about' look.'

"Dad," she asked slowly. "What's wrong?"

Percy walked slowly towards the table in a half-daze and sat down, still staring at the food sadly. But, as a single tear left its sorrowful trail town his right cheek, he didn't touch his silverware.

"Dad?" Clara asked concernedly, getting out of her chair and walking over towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder."Dad?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and opened him again, trying to reinforce the quaking emotional levies that were threatening to give way and release a flood of tears."Rem…remember that woman I told you about once," Percy said shakily.

Clara looked at him thoughtfully, recalling with perfect clarity that day more than five years ago. "The one who was your best friend, who you were in love with? The one who die- oh," Clara stopped abruptly.

Percy nodded. He couldn't stop the tears now. Several more streamed down from his watery eyes.

"Sh-she, An-Annabeth, used to do th-this for me," he stammered, completely losing control. "The mo-morning after a r-really b-bad day, or wh-when I wa-wasn't f-feeling well. I'd w-wake up to the smell of blu-blueberry pancakes and ma-maple syrup."

Clara had never seen her father break down like this before. She always could tell that there were some sad, painful emotions and memories that he was constantly masking and suppressing. But she tended to make a point of not prying. Now, it seemed, she had managed to unintentionally open his emotional floodgates, which, she presumed, had been left unlocked by whatever bad dream he had been having. And frankly, she had no idea what to do.

"D-dad," she said unsurely. "Dad, I'm sorry."

Percy sucked in a breath and tried to get a hold of himself for his daughter's sake. "It's alright."

Clara saw right through that lie. "No it's not."

"Yes, Clara, it is," Percy assured. "There's no way you could have known." Percy wiped the tears off his face. "Just promise me one thing."

"Hmm?"

"That you won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

Clara threw her arms around her father. "Of course not, dad. Don't be silly. I'm a very careful person." She pulled back and looked him in the face. Father and daughter's identical green eyes locked. "Now try to forget about everything and just eat your pancakes!"

**Eh, not to proud of this one. It's code red air out today, so no practice this afternoon! As such, you all might be seeing a new chapter of one story of mine or another relatively soon.**

**Okay! This is now the edited version. I wasn't satisfied with the beginning of this chapter, so i changed it up a bit.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Strawberries! **

Clara's Age: Thirteen

"I need to go get some groceries, Clara," Percy announced. "I'll be back in half an hour."

"Right," Clara said, not even looking up from the dusty architecture book she had pulled off the top of her father's bookshelf.

She heard the door close and immediately stood up. Something in the book had, again, piqued her interest. On the inside of the front cover, in her father's handwriting, was scribbled.

_To my favorite daughter of Athena. Happy Birthday!_

_ -Love, your Seaweed Brain_

Her inherent curiosity finally overwhelmed her determination to follow her father's instructions _not_ to enter the house's third bedroom. There had been too many hints to something. Too many references to gods and myths, and too many strange family friends. And Clara was convinced that the answer was locked away in that room.

So she fished the key out from the spot where she knew her dad hid it- under the little sunken ship in the fish tank- and went to unlock the door to the room.

She stepped inside and tried to flick the light switch. Nothing happened; the bulb had died, its filament worn away, after too much unused.

She stepped carefully across the room to where a hollow square of light seeped in- a window with blinds, she assumed. She found, however, that there were no blinds; the window was boarded up with plywood.

Frustrated, she crossed back out of the room and into the upstairs hallway, which was well lit by light seeping in through huge windows. Allowing her eyes to adjust back to the light, she quickly descended the stairs and made her way to the garage, where the largest flashlights were kept.

She returned to the room with a large flashlight, powered by one of those huge 6 V Lantern batteries, to shed some light on the situation.

What she found was far from what she was expecting.

The room's walls were covered in strips of lumber and tree bark, with leaves painted here and there. The ceiling was painted like the night sky; a full moon and stars could be seen above her head. The whole room had a very campout-style feel to it.

Finally, the beam of light landed on the left-hand wall. Here, on a rack were weapons. What Clara found immensely strange, though, was that they were not guns; it was a collection of swords and spears, along with a pair of shields that had wicked looking bosses. They reflected the light from her flashlight, though, in a manner distinctly unlike any metal she had ever seen. It was almost like bronze, but not quite.

At the top of the rack was, poised as if in a place of honor, a foot long combat knife. She found herself wondering why it was so special. Hanging just below the knife was a horn, like that of a bull. But somehow, it gave her the distinct impression of being much, much more dangerous.

On the other side of the room was a rather old looking television set. She found herself thinking 'television set' rather than just 'TV' because of how old it looked. 'Television set' just seemed to be a better descriptor. Next to it, with cables running to the television set, was something just as old-looking; a VHS player. Having grown up on Blu-Ray and DVD, she hand only ever used a VHS once, and that was just because she was trying to convert it to DVD.

She walked over to the television and turned it on. She soon found that there was no cable or satellite brining channels to this TV; just the VHS player.

Clara looked around for a tape, but only found one. The sticky paper strip attacked to the top simply had the word '_memories'_ scribbled on it.

She pushed it into the VHS player and squinted at it until she found the 'play' button. She pressed it.

A grainy image flickered onto the screen. It looked like it had been taken with a hand recorder, by someone who wasn't necessarily good with a hand recorder. It wobbled and bounced a bit. You could hear the cameraman breathing.

On the screen was an attractive boy, sixteen or so, seated at a picnic table. The locale was serene; a beautiful forest, and what seemed to be a lake. It was sunset.

_"Hey," a blonde-haired girl, holding a cake said, sliding on the bench next to him. "Happy birthday."_

_She was holding a huge misshapen cupcake with blue icing._

_The boy stared at her. "What?"_

_"It's August 18," she said. "Your birthday, right?" _

_He looked at the cake for a moment_

_"Make a wish," she said._

_"Did you bake this yourself?" he asked._

_"Tyson helped."_

_"That explains why it looks like a chocolate brick," the boy said. "With extra blue cement."_

_The girl laughed._

_He blew out the candle._

_They cut it in half and shared, eating with their fingers._

"_Ohmygods!" whispered a girl's voice, somewhere near the cameraman. "Just kiss her already!"_

"_Shut up, Silena," muttered the cameraman. "They'll hear you."_

"_You saved the world," the girl at the bench said._

_"We saved the world," the boy corrected._

_"And Rachel is the new Oracle, which means she won't be dating anybody."_

_"You don't sound disappointed."_

_She shrugged. "Oh, I don't care."_

_"Uh-uh."_

_She raised an eyebrow. "You got something to say to me, Seaweed Brain?"_

Seaweed brain- Clara recognized that, from the architecture book. And then it hit her. The young man in the video was her father. She watched with renewed interest.

"_You'd probably kick my butt."_

_"You know I'd kick your butt."_

_"When I was at the river Styx, turning invulnerable...Nico said I had to concentrate on one thing that kept me anchored to the world, that made me want to saty mortal."_

_"Yeah?_

_"The up on Olympus when they wanted to make me a god and stuff, I kept thinking-"_

_"Oh, you so wanted to."_

_"Well, maybe a little. But I didn't, because I thought - I didn't want things to stay the same for eternity, because things could always get better. and I was thinking..."_

_"Anyone in particular?" the girl asked, her voice soft._

"_Gods, this is barf inducing," muttered a voice._

"_Oh, stuff it, Travis," admonished Silena, "it's adorable."_

_"You're laughing at me," Percy complained._

_"I am not!"_

_"You are so not making this easy."_

_The girl laughed and put her hands around his neck. "I am never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it."_

_And then they kissed._

_Silena sighed happily._

_Suddenly the pavilion was filled with torchlight and people. A strong looking young women led the party of eavesdroppers._

"_No! Clarisse!" Silena shouted hoarsely. "What the hell are you doing! Don't break up their moment!"_

_The camera shut off._

A new scene began to flicker onto the screen, and Clara hit the pause button. Gods? Olympus? None of this made any sense to her. And saving the world? It was all too strange. And her curiosity was unsatisfied. So she hit the play button again.

This scene showed the same couple as in the first, except it was in the height of daytime, and they were decked out in Greek battle armor. The boy was holding a sword, and the girl was holding a knife which Clara recognized from the 'spot of honor' on the weapons rack behind her. She concluded that her father had a very, very strange childhood.

"_And this is Camp Half Blood's newest couple, Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase," the cameraman announced; it was the same cameraman from the last scene._

_Percy rolled his eyes. "Do you really have to drag that thing out _every_ day, Grover?"_

"_It's for posterity," Grover defended. "We need to properly document the heroes of Olympus so that countless more generations of demigods can learn of your deeds."_

"_How about we just get someone to write a book," Annabeth suggested._

"_Book?" Grover said, laughing. "Who actually reads anything these days?"_

_Annabeth looked offended_. And so was Clara, as she watched with labored breath.

"_Percy," Grover demanded, "show posterity your sword."_

_Percy turned to face the camera and drew up into a fighting stance, sword pointed forward. _

"_I meant the pen thing."_

"_Oh," Percy said, producing a pen cap and putting it on the tip of his sword. It promptly turned into a pen._

Clara recognized that pen. Her father always had it in his pocket, but he never used it to sign or write anything.

"_You know what?" Annabeth asked rhetorically. "Why even bother heading down to the arena. Let's battle for the camera right here." And she struck out at Percy with her knife._

_He executed a precise backhand block to protect his back from the knife before turning to face her._

"_Watch it, wise girl," Percy said. "I'm invincible, remember." He stabbed himself in the face demonstratively. The tip just bounced off._

Clara's jaw dropped.

"_Are you sure you want to get your ass kicked on camera?" he continued._

_Annabeth leaned forward. "I know your weak spot," she whispered in his ear._

Clara had seen enough. She pressed stop and abruptly ejected the tape. Then she lay down on the floor, breathing hard. This had to be some project of his, she reasoned. Some movie or spoof he made with his friends during his teen years. Though it did seem odd to have a room dedicated to it, it was certainly the most logical conclusion.

She was sure she'd find support for her conclusion if she had more time, but she heard the sound of her father's car pulling up to the driveway. She frantically dashed to the door, stepped out, closed it, and locked it with the key. She ran to her father's room and put it back in place under the sunken ship in the fish tank.

"Clara, I'm home!" Percy called from downstairs. "I've got fresh strawberries from the farmer's market!"

Clara took a moment to wipe her arm dry on the towel next to the fish tank, and then bounded eagerly down the stairs with a shout of, "strawberries!"

The thought of fresh strawberries caused her to forget a small detail; she had left the flashlight in the strange room.

**Geh, I didn't like this chapter either. I'm running out of ideas for this little story. Oh well, I'm determined to finish it.**


	5. Something Extra

**Something Extra: Visiting**

Percy stood in the kitchen with his mother. Even though _she_ was a guest at _his _house, she had insisted on helping with the dishes. And Percy knew that one thing that would never change about his mother was her relentless work ethic.

"She's so sweet," Sally said, glancing at Clara, who was fooling around in the two feet of snow that blanketed the backyard. "You've raised her right."

Percy looked over at his mom, shutting off the water as he passed her the last dish to dry. "Thanks. That means a lot."

"Too bad she isn't…"

"Yeah," Percy confirmed sadly.

**Well, this is just a little tidbit I did. And there _was _a reason. That's up to you to figure out, though.**

**Expect the next full chapter very soon. I managed to hurt my ankle during the race a few days ago, so I don't exactly have much better to do than write all day. Alot of you have been noticing certain... discrepancies. Just know that they are not mistakes; it will all be unraveled in the next few chapters. Until then, toodles!**

**Reviews/comments are always appreciated. You know you want to press it... you know you want to.  
**


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4: Nine-Letter Word for Fiery Dog**

Clara's age: Fifteen

"Checkmate!"

"Bu… wha? Again?" Percy glanced around the board. "No, I can move my king here."

Clara pointed at one of her bishops, feeling rather smug.

"What about here?"

"The pawn, dad."

Percy sighed and flicked his king over. This was the fifth time in half an hour.

"Another game?" Clara asked hopefully.

"I think I've had enough of getting my ass kicked today, but thanks for asking," Percy said dryly, rolling his eyes.

Normally, they would have jumped up to head over to the park, but it was pouring outside; the remnants of a hurricane were blowing over the state. Percy still kept one or two secrets from his daughter, so heading out and preventing them from getting wet as they fished was out of the question. So he picked up the _Washington Post_ crossword puzzle and a ballpoint pen. He was never a crossword person, but Annabeth was. His mind, in its desperate belief that she was still alive, often had him continuing _her_ habits, as sort of a placeholder until she returned.

He didn't get very far before he needed Clara's help. "Nine-letter word for fiery dog?"

"Hellhound," Clara said, without even glancing up from the novel she was blasting through.

"Right, Hellhound. Why didn't I think of that?" Percy mentally slapped himself.

"Why would you?"

"Uh… long story, really," Percy dodged his daughter's question. She was getting pretty nosy about that sort of thing lately. He suspected that she suspected something.

"What? About you and a hellhound?" Clara asked sarcastically.

"No, not a hellhound. Just, uh… a really big dog?" Percy covered unsurely.

"Was that a question or a statement?"

"Umm… a statement?"

Clara was about to make another smart ass remark when they heard a loud shriek from across the street.

"EEEEKK!" a woman yelled. "Look at the size of those dogs. God, they're like wolf-sized."

Percy and Clara jumped up and ran to the window. Sure enough, pack of massive black dogs was tearing down the street towards their house, knocking over lamp posts and tearing up pavement. But they were much, much bigger than wolves.

"Those are definitely bigger than wolves," Clara remarked, eyeing the car-sized creatures.

"Shit," Percy cursed, "we must have said 'hellhound' too many times."

"What?" Clara asked confusedly.

"Go!" Percy yelled. "Upstairs, into your room. Lock the door."

"But dad-"

"GO!"

Clara obediently climbed the stairs, but stopped as she reached the top. She watched her father from around a corner. She watched as he pulled out that all-too familiar pen, and, for once, removed the cap.

Suddenly, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a deadly sharp three feet of a bronze like metal. A determined look set upon Percy's face.

As the massive dogs bounded up the front lawn, the ground rumbled as if it was being shook my an earthquake.

What happened next was almost too quick for Clara to register. The front door made a loud snap, and flew across the small foyer, right at her dad. She covered her mouth with her hands to muffle a scream.

But, miraculously, the massive wooden frame simply bounced off Percy, smacking the first dog through the doorframe right in the snout.

The next few of the ferocious animals simply charged at Clara's father. But, with elegant swipes from his flashing blade, Percy easily turned them to dust. But more of them came. Many more. Too many for him to handle at once. As he struggled to deal with the hounds bounding through the door, the ones that escaped riptide's deadly swipes were beginning to sneak around the edges, encircling him.

Clara, as anyone who's around her for more than ten seconds could figure out, wasn't stupid. She recognized that her father needed help. Recalling the room she had visited several years prior, she sprinted frantically down the hallway. There was no time to find the key. Fortunately, Clara was a runner. So one swift kick, and the door swung open as its reinforced wooden frame cracked under the pressure of keeping it in place.

She grabbed at the first weapon she saw- a five-foot spear- and made her way back to the front of the house. Her father was presently occupied in what looked like a staring contest with a trio of particularly black and massive, black and massive dogs. Clara's attention was fixated for a moment on an ominously swirling vortex of water hovering over her father's head. The three dogs kept glancing up at it nervously.

A flurry of activity caught Clara's attention. She reacted, very uncharacteristically, without thinking. Spear in hand, she jumped clear over the stair rail. Her landing was perfect, and it flowed without pause into a professional looking combat roll. She came up out of the roll smoothly on one knee, directly behind her father, with her spear braced against her side and the ground. Just in time for a charging car-dog, unnoticed by Percy, to run up against it.

This burst of movement had caught Percy's attention, and he whipped his head around. He was startled to see his daughter, with a braced spear, being showered in golden monster-dust.

The other three hellhounds noticed that Percy was momentarily distracted and took that opportunity to charge. Percy, currently busied in gaping astonishedly at his daughter, took no notice. In another instance of surprising aptitude for combat despite a lack of training, Clara, almost unthinkingly, took control of her father's hovering water vortex, and neatly washed the hellhounds out the front door.

Percy turned his head again, blinked a few times, surveyed the devastated room carefully, and, satisfied, capped his sword. He turned to see his daughter, hunched on the floor, staring at her spear in utter disbelief.

"Clara…" Percy started, walking over to his daughter.

"How… what?" Clara stammered. She was too stunned to really speak. Whatever had come over her, causing her to act so swiftly and in such a level-headed way, had left with the danger. Now she just squatted, as her brain tried and failed to process whatever had just happened.

Percy pried the spear from her tense, clammy fingers. "It seems," he said slowly, "your defensive instincts are even stronger than mine were."

"Defensive…instincts," Clara repeated incoherently, still looking at the spear as her father threw it to the side.

"Let's go eat," Percy said, gently helping her to her feet. "I suppose I have some explaining to do."

**

* * *

**

Clara sat at the kitchen table, still looking a little shell-shocked. At least she was blinking now. That had to be a good sign, Percy figured as he dug though the highest cabinets, looking for an old stash of special food. He found what he was looking for, and pulled it out.

"What… what were those things?" Clara asked slowly, carefully, as if she thought that doing anything too fast would fry her brain.

Percy sat across from his daughter and looked at her closely, then glanced at the spear. There's only one place she could have found that. "You're a smart girl. I think you know the answer."

Clara closed her eyes. "Hellhounds," she breathed.

"So what can you conclude from that?" Percy asked, handing a small square piece of food to her. She looked at it strangely, then took a bite.

"I can think of a number of hellhounds. Gwyllgi or Cŵn Annwn of Welsh mythology, the yeth hound of Devon folklore…"

"I'll give you another hint," Percy said, reaching for the spear. "That food you just ate was ambrosia. And this spear," he handed it to her, shaft first, "is made of celestial bronze. Or, as it is more commonly called by Historians, Adamant."

Clara took the spear in her hands. "The metal of the gods."

Percy nodded. "Cronus used and adamant sickle to castrate Uranus. The Greek hero Perseus used an adamant sword given to him by Athena to kill Medusa."

"And ambrosia… the food of the gods."

"Too much will kill you. In moderation, though, it can work wonders on your health and restore you to your wits," Percy informed her.

"So you're telling me," Clara reasoned, "that Greek Mythology is… real?"

"Yes."

"And the Gods?"

"Real too," Percy confirmed.

Clara chuckled. "And here I was, an Atheist all this time." She sighed sadly. Then something occurred to her. "The lady outside… she yelled that they were wolf-sized. Clearly those hellhounds were far larger."

"A force called 'the mist'," Percy explained, "hides elements of… our world. From everyone else."

"Everyone else? That makes us…"

"Demigods," Percy finished. "Half-bloods. Half-mortal, half god." He considered this for a moment. "At least I am. Not too sure about you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you are the daughter of two demigods. I suppose that makes you a half-blood as well…"

Clara thought for a moment. "So your dad was… Poseidon, I guess. I mean, you and your water. Me and my water, for that matter…"

"Yep."

"Poseidon… not Grandpa Paul."

Percy shook his head. "Paul is my stepdad."

Clara nodded tentatively. "So I'm going to guess that my maternal grandmother is Athena."

Percy raised a joking eyebrow. "Now, I wonder how you figured that out."

"Well, seeing as I'm a child genius and all…"

"Oooh. And modest, too," Percy taunted.

The conversation slowed down in a faint bravado of tiny chuckles. Clara took a deep breath. "I have a confession, dad."

"Hmm?"

"I've been in that room."

Percy nodded, expecting this. "You're a granddaughter of Athena. I knew you wouldn't be able to hold back your curiosity forever."

"I watched the beginning of that tape."

"Which tape?"

"The one recorded by… I think his name was Grover."

Percy sighed. "Oh. That tape."

"Tell me about her," Clara pried.

"Who?"

"Annabeth Chase."

Percy winced. Thinking about her was always painful. It ignited an internal war within him. His logic centers told him she was dead, that she was never coming back. But the rest of him, the stubborn part that usually got the better of him, refused to accept it.

But, for his daughter's sake, he swallowed the pain and launched into the long-overdue explanation.

**Aren't I mean? Bwa ha ha! Mine is an evil laugh!**

**It may be some time until the next chapter; my alter ego has some mapping to do for the good folks over at EAW files. But don't worry; it won't be too long. I'm just as anxious to see the end of this as you are.**

**In the meantime, review, review, review!  
**


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